


Not The Hair

by RydenWayWeekes



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Axis Powers - Freeform, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romano's in bedd... It wont come out... Oww, Run from Germany Romano!, Take It Out, Video Prompt, oww
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RydenWayWeekes/pseuds/RydenWayWeekes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Romano's in bed... It won't come out... Oww, Oww... Take it out..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnikornGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=UnikornGirl).



> My friend UnikornGirl and I were watching Hetalia, when this scene came on, it's when Veneziano calls Germany (and I know, we were all thinking that Romano was raping Veneziano or something like that). 
> 
> As we all know, this _isn't ___what happens, BUT UnikornGirl thought it would make a great minific. Not necessarily the rape in itself, but the aftermath, Germany taking care of Veneziano and stuff (and maybe even Germany beating the hell out of Romano for it, who knows?)
> 
> _And so, this was born...._

_"Romano's in bed... It won't come out... Ow, ow... Take it out"_

 

Even the thousand and one scenarios that went through Germany's head could not have prepared him for what he found as he burst through the door. When he got Italy's call, he'd dropped all of the paperwork (even though his boss would get on his case for it) and rushed straight to the smaller nation's side. He paused for a microsecond (smaller than Sealand's perimeter) outside the door of the Italian's room, before practically ripping the door off its hinges. Standing in the doorway, he squinted through the shadowed room at the lump lying on the bed. His brow furrowed and he groped at the wall for the light switch, finally finding it and letting the  warm yellow light bathe every surface. The lump on the bed was, indeed, a very pale-looking Italy, who was trembling with the covers pulled up to his ears and facing the wall. He flinches and a choked up whimper falls from his lips, making Germany berate himself for acting on impulse instead of taking in consideration Italy's state. There were only so many things he could've expected after that phone call.

 

"I-Italy... Are you ok?" Germany mentally smacked himself for asking such a stupid question! Even America could have taken half a look at the shivering mess in the room and inferred the brunette was indeed not o-fucking-kay. He stepped closer to the bed and put a hand on the other's shoulder, instantly recoiling when the other flinched away from the touch.

 

"Veneziano, Liebe.... Wha- what happened?" The blonde sat down next to the younger Italian, who turned to give him a tear-stained glance.

 

Germany wanted nothing more than to just pick the smaller nation up and hug him tight, run his hands other his back soothingly and chase all the nightmares away with sweet words, however out of character it might have been. From the way the Mediterranean nation seemed eerily quiet and detached, he guessed it might not get him the results he hoped for. He ventured again, settling for smoothing down the younger one's hair (taking great measures to avoid that certain curl) and let out a breath he didn't notice himself holding when he was met with a small sob, the Italian actually leaning slightly towards his touch.

 

"Italy, please..." He trailed off, not sure if asking the other to relieve, what surely must have been a traumatic event, would be the most merciful thing. Germany had to dig his nails into the palm of his other hand to stop the tears from flowing.

 

Who could have done this? He thought to himself. Who could've taken the sun out of Italy's smile and left this battered and broken mess instead? Whose life do I have to extinguish just like they did to the spark in Veneziano's eyes?

 

The Germanic nation looked down and was met with the caramel orbs of his beloved underling. The same eyes which before had looked like stardust and fireworks (whenever he rarely bothered to open them at all), now seemed dull and lifeless. It was as if this was a carbon copy of the bubbly Italian, looking the same but with the life essence missing. Germany felt himself break in two for the first time in his history (but unfortunately not last, but that's a story for another decade). After what felt like an eternity of stale silence, Italy sparked into motion as if struck by lightning. He griped onto the other's uniform and pulled him down, burying his face in the German's broad chest and letting sob after wail after whimper rack through his body as he kept repeating the same litany of words.

  
"Hurt... Wouldn't stop.... I begged and begged, but he wouldn't stop" 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got over my writer's block!! Huzzah!
> 
> The long awaited conclusion to this fic is finally here. I'm gonna be writing more in the future, since I feel completely renovated where creative energy is concerned.
> 
> So!
> 
> I hid a song reference to one of my most-liked bands in this chapter. First person to find it wins a fic of their pairing/fandom of their preference. And I promise to not take ages to write it too. Happy searching! *^_^*

_**My inspiration for this....** _

 

 

_*****ON TO THE CHAPTER***** _

 

 

The Germanic nation was livid. Now that he'd finally coaxed Veneziano into a fit full sleep and had time to think through the day's events, he found himself growing irate with every second that passed. He just couldn't wrap his mind around it, that his own brother could do such a horrible thing to poor Italy. Sure, everybody knew that him and his brother didn't have the best of relationships, but he was certain Prussia would never stoop to something so low. He growled and puttered about the kitchen, only refraining from clattering the pots and pans with great effort to keep Italy asleep. The younger nation kept Germany's stomach tied in knots with worry; he hadn't even asked for pasta once today!   
  
The blonde nation resolved to make his best attempt at cooking for his beloved underling. Maybe some good pasta would help him out of the traumatic experience and lift his spirits. He was just about to dump the uncooked pasta into boiling water when he heard a whimper from the other's room and dropped everything to run to him (properly turning off the stove first; it wouldn't do for both of them to die in an accidental house fire).  
  
He dropped to his knees in front of Italy's bed, hushing him softy and running a hand through his hair to soothe him (obviously avoiding that damn curl). The brunette on the bed merely trembled on the bed, sweating like a sauna even though the temperature in the room was leaning on brisk, and mumbles in between cries something that sounded vaguely like  
  
"Stop.... Please.... Help.... Romano,no!"  
  
When the younger one seemed to settle down from the nightmare plaguing his subconscious, Germany stood up and clenched his fists at his sides. That was it, he would have Lovino Vargas' head on a plate!  
  
  
 ****** Meanwhile in Spain's house** ********  
  
"*groans* what do you want bastard?"   
  
"Want to help me pick up some tomatoes, Lovi?" Spain smiled at the Italian, who barely opened one eye at him and turned away, wrapping himself back on the covers and tried to continue his siesta.  
  
"No. But after you're done, bring me some"  
  
"C'mon, Lovi" the green eye nation pouted and poked him again (as that is how he roused him from sleep the first time). "You haven't done anything but sleep and eat and haven't even told me why Feliciano kicked you out!"  
  
"And how is that different from all the other times I visit?" Romano raised a very unimpressed eyebrow at the Spaniard. "And anyways, Feli didn't kick me out! I left on my own accord"  
  
Spain's smile never faltered as he continued poking at the younger brunette.  
  
"C'mon, you seem even more irritable than usual and I think spending some good old time with your Boss will help. Vamos!" Antonio extended his hand at him, which was only met with a glare, a huff, and Romano rolling to his other side and mentally praying to St Elizabeth to be able to finish his siesta.  
  
The chime of bells reverberated through Spain's villa and he sighed, ruffling up Romano's auburn-tinted hair as he got up and shuffled towards the front door. Upon opening said door, he almost took a step back. If not for the surprise that it was Ludwig standing on the other side, then for the stormy rage that was very clear in his eyes.  
  
"Where is that arschloch piece of Scheiß?!" the blonde yelled, anger making his accent thick enough for the Spaniard to have difficulty understanding. This was clearly shown on the tanned-one's face as Germany marched imposingly into the house, backing up Spain against the opposite hallway wall and growling. "Show me to Vargas!"  
  
Spain blinked at him, more than taken aback by the usually now-pascifist European. It seems his Blitzkrieg streak was acting up again. He was about to open his mouth and question this sudden attack when a cutely-grumpled Italian descended down the stairs.   
  
"What's with all the noise, you tomato bastard? Some of us are trying to sleep here!" Lovino yawned and rubbed at his eyes, taking in full sight of the room and paling slightly. Antonio thought he was the most adorable thing ever.   
  
Ludwig seemed to disagree as he released Spain from his grasp and advanced menacingly towards Lovino, who in turn tried not to cower even though his hands were visibly shaken.  
  
"I knew I'd find you here, fiesling! Rats always run to the gutter," the blonde sneered, harshly grabbing Romano by his forearms.  
  
Spain frowned. He wasn't sure but something told him the blonde had just insulted him. He shook his head and cleared his face, tapping the irate German on the shoulder.  
  
"Uh, Ludwig? Not that I don't appreciate the visit, but could you please put Lovi down, si? I don't want 'The Squirrels' to have another accidente" Spain smile one of his most friendly smiles (as he had different smiles for every occasion), and ignored the glare Romano sent him.  
  
Germany whirled around, his grip on the Italian's arm becoming tighter. Oh bother, that was gonna cause some bruises later.  
  
"I will not put him down until this dreckspatz pays for what he did to Italy!"  
  
"What _did_ he do to Ita-chan?" Spain tilted his head, even more interested at seeing the last traces of blood leave his querido Romano's face.  
  
Germany thrust Romano in front of him, keeping him from running like the true Italian he was by the grip on his forearms. "Why don't you hear it from him?" he sneered.  
  
"Roma?" Spain prodded, being met only with Lovino's averted gaze.  
  
"TELL HIM, YOU SCHEIßKERL!!" the blonde rattled Romano (literally), until the shorter one yelled.  
  
"FINE! Fine, potato bastard!" Romano sighed and muttered "Ayeuteeshare..."  
  
"Que?" Antonio frowned, strained to listen. Ludwig's grip became even tighter.  
  
"I cut his hair, ok?!" Lovino yelped, squirming in Ludwig's arms. "There, now let go of me, you idiota!"  
  
Germany whirled Romano around to stare him down. "That's not what happened! You-"  
  
Ludwig stopped. Veneziano had never actually told him <i> what <i/> Lovino had done. He'd just kind of assumed. And if Romano's bewildered and confused was any indication, he'd really just made an ass out of himself for real. He released Lovino unceremoniously, who proceeded to rub his arms and glare at the arm Spain threw around his shoulder. Germany had a call to make so, ignoring the heated argument about squirrels going on in the background (which involved an Italian amount of swearing from Romano), he fished the phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he had become so accostumed to.  
  
"Ve-moew?" came the teary voice on the other end. Germany nearly avoided rolling his eyes. Very nearly.  
  
"Italy, what is it exactly that Romano did to you?" Ludwig asked tiredly.  
  
Veneziano sniffled on the line. "Well, we were getting ready to sleep and Corsica and Sicily got all tangled up together. I had no problem with it but Romano said we had to undo it. I didn't know how so I told him to leave it alone, we could just spend more time together like that...."  
  
Italy trailed off into a tale that involved Japan, Greece, some cats and Turkey. Germany sighed, turning back to the two brunnettes with him.  
  
"Hey!" Spain smiled at him, while Romano flinched scuffing his toe against the terrazo. "What is 'Corsica' and 'Sicily?" Germany raised an eyebrow and Spain smirked.  
  
"This is Sicily," he reached up and tugged at Romano's curl, causing the younger Italian to blush furiously. Spain shrugged, "Corsica is the same but on Veneziano. Why do you ask?"  
  
Germany sighed, failing to restrain the urge to restrict his eyeroll this time, and turned to Romano. "And when you said you cut his hair?"  
  
Lovino looked at him, face returned to his usual-ish non-tomato colour. "They got tangled, so I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut at the knot," he glares at the floor. "Fratello started crying that I made it uneven and that his hair looked terrible now."  
  
"Oh no!" Spain's eyes widened to the size of the moon, and it wasn't even nine in the afternoon. "Not the hair!"  
  
They all new perfect hair was very Important (yes, with a capital "I") to both Italies. Ludwig sighed yet again and shook his head. This was such a Veneziano thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Translations:  
> arschloch: Asshole  
> Scheiß : Shit  
> fiesling: Sod  
> SCHEIßKERL - Scheisskerl: Bastard  
> dreckspatz: filthy ruffian (roughly)

**Author's Note:**

> And I cut it short because:  
> 1) I wanted to know if people are actually interested in this  
> 2) I'm evil!
> 
> Updates to come!


End file.
